"...That was me." His voice was dead, quiet. The complete opposite of his face, his mind. "That was where I died yesterday, before I transformed into the beast. And I'm still alive. I had transformed once before, and everyone thought the Gamemakers killed me. But now I know. I'm still alive. I can see his memories, and he can see mine."
"Not I think I get it. We're here to play the games...and we're here to keep doing it. They can make us. Because we're little more than clones. Mass manufactured in their labs, like the muttations they sic on us."
Bitterness, anger, began to seep into his voice. Its subtle, but there. And slowly, that numb look of horror turns into something quieter, more seething. Infinitely more dangerous, as he began to shut down internally his logic, his morality, his everything. Whatever was left that wasn't reeling. Because...what was the point? Here, in the Arena, in Panem, in this place. There was none. Not anymore. Not like this. Not here.
His father had said that to have honor was the greatest thing a ninja could attain to. To not have it would be like being the Shredder. To not be afraid of killing, meant a warrior lost his honor.
"Eva was right. We really are...just toys. Toys meant to put on a spectacle."
Well, he killed the Shredder back home. Maybe that had just been the start to this logical conclusion, coming here, a place where honor did not even exist. His punishment, in the cosmic scheme. With his entire existence shattered, it all suddenly made sense.
"They want a show. They want spectacle. I may as well start obliging." He turned to Harley, his eyes vacant of emotion. "You can come with me, if you want. If not, you can keep the water. But our next meeting will be as cordial."
His knife flicked open; whether Harley saw him take it out of his pocket or not was irrelevant.
no subject
"Not I think I get it. We're here to play the games...and we're here to keep doing it. They can make us. Because we're little more than clones. Mass manufactured in their labs, like the muttations they sic on us."
Bitterness, anger, began to seep into his voice. Its subtle, but there. And slowly, that numb look of horror turns into something quieter, more seething. Infinitely more dangerous, as he began to shut down internally his logic, his morality, his everything. Whatever was left that wasn't reeling. Because...what was the point? Here, in the Arena, in Panem, in this place. There was none. Not anymore. Not like this. Not here.
His father had said that to have honor was the greatest thing a ninja could attain to. To not have it would be like being the Shredder. To not be afraid of killing, meant a warrior lost his honor.
"Eva was right. We really are...just toys. Toys meant to put on a spectacle."
Well, he killed the Shredder back home. Maybe that had just been the start to this logical conclusion, coming here, a place where honor did not even exist. His punishment, in the cosmic scheme. With his entire existence shattered, it all suddenly made sense.
"They want a show. They want spectacle. I may as well start obliging." He turned to Harley, his eyes vacant of emotion. "You can come with me, if you want. If not, you can keep the water. But our next meeting will be as cordial."
His knife flicked open; whether Harley saw him take it out of his pocket or not was irrelevant.
"Well?"